


five times they saw the sunset (and once they missed it)

by americonedreaming



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, F/M, Fluff, Marauders, Sunrises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-01 22:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americonedreaming/pseuds/americonedreaming
Summary: A tale of James and Lily gradually growing closer during secret meetings framed by the sunset.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. the first

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a collection of six scenes between Lily and James seeing the sunset together throughout their friendship.

The first time, Lily just wanted to be alone. 

She was sitting in front of the fire, face burning in shame. The Slug Club Christmas party was next week, and she had been preparing all week to ask Austin Starling, a Ravenclaw Chaser, to join her, only to have been mercilessly shut down. 

Okay, he had been very decent about it. It was very merciful, actually. But that didn’t help much. He had felt bad saying no, she could tell, but his friends had let out howls of laughter when she ran away. Because she did. Run, that is. Like a coward. 

“Lily,” Mary tried, “I promise it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

Alice agreed (bless her), and they spent the better part of their day convincing her that Austin wasn’t worth it and that she could do much better than someone who ate the same meal every single morning. She was right, of course. Eating plain porridge every morning wasn’t the start of an exciting relationship. 

“I will never live this down!” Lily whined. “I can’t go outside ever again.” Her life was over, officially. She would have to leave Hogwarts and go home and live with Petunia and her parents and never do magic again and go to Muggle school and have to learn math. Oh, god. Math. 

“It’s not that bad! I promise!” 

“Oh, but it is, isn’t it?” she responded, head between her knees. “Can I just be alone to contemplate my misery for a bit? Please?”

“Lily–”

“Just… for a minute, okay? I’ll be right up.”

There was silence for a second. Lily could practically feel Alice and Mary exchanging looks, possibly even rolling their eyes (Mary, not Alice, for sure). 

But they ended up leaving. 

Finally. 

She felt humiliated. Logically (because Lily was able to be logical, regardless of what people tended to think), she knew that it would be over in a couple of days. That no one would remember it in a couple of days. But that wasn’t the real problem, obviously. The problem was that Lily would remember it. She would never forget it, would remember it every single time that she looked at Austin, every time any of her friends walked by her in the hall. Because Lily, if nothing else, could _ remember _. (And there was plenty else, alright, she was kind of brilliant.)

“Evans,” she heard from behind her. 

Not now. “This is not the best time, Potter,” she spat back. Unnecessarily nasty, perhaps, but she was tired and embarrassed. She needed a bucket of ice cream and some pumpkin pasties right now, that’s all she needed. 

“Oh yes, I heard. Austin is a gargoyle, Evans. He’s not worth it.”

“What?” 

“You’re worth a thousand Austins.”

She felt oddly flattered by this. It wasn’t quite true, she thought, but she needed to hear it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, Potter.” Snarky. Don’t let him get too close, she figured, otherwise he’d start asking her out. 

Potter nodded at her, a smile on his face. “Why did you ask him out anyway? Didn’t you know he was gay?”

She groaned. She didn’t want to be reminded of her shame, of her obliviousness. “Well, _ obviously _ I didn’t. Did you think I did that just for fun? I needed a date to Slug Club and… he’s not bad looking, you know!”

“Evans, he doesn’t even put sugar on his porridge!”

“I know!”

“Just eats it plain!”

“I _ know _!”

“Every single day!”

“I KNOW!”

He was laughing at her, now. Her face was bright red, practically steaming. God, he frustrated her like no other. 

“You don’t deserve someone that _ boring _. What did you think you would do together?” he asked, laughter still clear on his face. “Besides, you’re too pretty for that oaf, everyone knows it.” She didn’t know it was possible to blush even more, but somehow she felt the blush on her face deepen regardless, without any attention paid to logic. She couldn’t quite decide whether to be embarrassed or flattered or angry, now, but rather settled for a mix of all three, which, to be fair, was how Potter usually made her feel. 

“Evans, look–”

“No, Potter, I get it, he’s boring, I messed up, oblivious Lily once again–”

“No, _ look _!” He leaned over her to point over her shoulder, arm nudging her shoulder. 

So she did. He was pointing out the window on the far right of the room, at the splashes of color outside. The sun was rising. Deep oranges and pinks were coloring the sky that was gradually getting lighter and lighter. She glanced over at Potter, who was still leaning over the back of the couch she was sitting on. She could feel his warm arm against her, and she moved away slightly to get away from the touch. Too warm. Too close. 

“You’re too good for him,” he said simply, as if it was fact. “Sleep well, Evans.” And then he left.


	2. the second

The second time, she didn’t want him to see her cry.

But she was. Crying, that is. Sitting on the windowsill, head on her arms, which were crossed over her knees. How could she possibly have gotten an _ A _ on her first O.W.L practice essay? Professor McGonagall had handed it to her with a small nod, after having given a speech about how grades were going to seem very low in comparison to what students might be used to. It was more rigorous now, she said. O.W.Ls were hard. The highest in the class had been an E (Potter’s smug smile revealed to whom it had been given). But Lily simply didn’t get A’s. She got O’s and an occasional E (in McGonagall’s class, of course). Maybe she just wasn’t _ made _ for Transfiguration. 

“Alright, Evans?” and there he was, just as expected. Smug, brilliant, way-too-good-at-Transfiguration Potter.

She sniffed, trying to wipe her cheeks in the most subtle manner she possibly could. She didn’t want him to see that she was sitting all alone in the window crying to herself after everyone else had already gone to bed. It really wouldn’t help her look less pathetic. Crying all by herself? Definitely wasn’t a high point, for sure. 

“Yes, I’m alright,” she said instead, lifting her head slightly and mustering up a smile in his general direction. 

He looked taken aback by her expression. “Are you crying?”

“No!”

“Evans. What is this about?”

“I’m not crying!”

“Is this about the O.W.Ls?” he asked, less mocking than she deserved, really. She knew it was just because Sirius wasn’t there. If he had been, they would both undoubtedly be bothering her, eventually discovering her ridiculous failure. No one would allow her to live this down.

“It’s just a test,” she responded, trying to be nonchalant, but the lump in her throat betrayed her. He was closer to her, now, standing just a foot away from her. She could smell him; the dirt from the Quidditch pitch, the muskiness of his cologne (which he had just learned to stop overapplying), grass-stains and fresh air. 

He leaned on the windowsill next to her, right by her feet, as she buried her head in her arms once again. “It is just a test, but it’s important to you,” he responded. “You’ll do better on the next one.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“You will.”

“All I have going for me is my grades, Potter,” she whispered. 

“That’s not true,” he countered, immediately. As if he didn’t even hesitate. He was so sure. “You’re brilliant, kind, caring, a firecracker when you want to be.”

Lily scoffed. 

“Not to mention, you’re not awful to look at. I mean, I’d much rather look at you than Sirius, for example.”

“Don’t let Sirius hear you say that,” she answered, but she’d lost some of the edge. 

Potter laughed. 

They sat in silence for a bit. Then:

“You’re not as bad as you used to be either, you know. Not _ awful _.” He had the nerve to laugh at that, too, but Lily didn’t mind so much. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, I can’t guarantee that. When Lily bloomin’ Evans says you’re not awful, you take it.” She looked up at him, through wet eyelashes. “Even if you were the thickest girl in school, you would have so much going for you.”

“But I’m just a Muggleborn!”

Potter looked at her for a moment. Looked at her tear-stained cheeks and the running mascara and her blotchy face. She almost expected him to burst out laughing at her, pointing and mocking, but he didn’t. Instead, he just said, “That is the dumbest thing you have ever said.” 

“What?”

“That is, by far, the dumbest thing that has ever left your mouth.” He put a hand on her knee and looked right at her, eyes shining genuinely. His brown eyes were obstinately fixed on her green ones. “Evans, you are one of the most impressive people I have ever met. _ Just _a Muggleborn? Bloody hell, Evans, you’re better than the majority of people, including Purebloods. Anyone who cares about your blood isn’t worth bothering with.” He let go, cleared his throat. 

She knew he was talking about Sev. God, Sev. He was so good to her and was her best friend, but there was only so much she could ignore. She knew what his friends thought about her. Mudblood. Dirty blood. Unworthy of magic. 

“That won’t mean much when I can’t find a _ job _, Potter, take this seriously, please,” she answered eventually, but she didn’t quite mean it. There wasn’t any bite left in her voice.

It was half-way through fifth year. She was counting down the months, the weeks, until she would inevitably go back to her parents house while everyone else went on with their magical existence.

“Listen to me, Evans. You are better than most of the people in this school. You’re going to do so many great things, I’m sure of it. I’ll bet my life on it, in fact. I’ll bet _ Sirius’ _ life on it. Who cares about one Transfiguration exam? If you think that’s going to keep you from a future, I’ll tutor you, I’ll help you. But if I had to bet on anyone in this school to rule the world, it’d be you.”

Lily cleared her throat. This was a side of Potter she wasn’t used to seeing. Had only really heard of, in fact. People always said he was loyal and caring, the Marauders loved him for a reason, but she had never really been on the receiving end of it before. But when James Potter looked her right in the eyes and told her that he believed in her, she felt it, could see how he managed to charm so many people despite all the pranks. 

“Evans?” She had been looking at him for too long, she realized. Instead, she turned to look out the window, at the sunrise beginning to open up the sky. 

She looked back at him questioningly.

“Did I make you uncomfortable? It wasn’t a particularly cool thing to say, I guess.” Potter laughed nervously, hand going up to ruffle his hair. 

“No, I–it’s fine. It was actually.. nice. Thank you.”

“Oh, okay. Nice. Good. No problem.”

There was a tense silence for a moment. Lily gathered that somehow she had ended up being the one making Potter uncomfortable, but couldn’t really understand why. Maybe her thanking him had taken him off guard. She wasn’t sure, but the air suddenly felt thick. 

“We’re back here again,” she said, instead, nodding towards the window. 

“Guess it’s a little past our bedtime,” he responded with a smile, looking at the purple rays. He got up, brushed himself off quickly, then turned to face her, a small smile on his lips. “Goodnight, Evans.” 


	3. the third

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i always imagined a drunk post-birthday heart-to-heart.

The third time, she was expecting him. 

It was January 31st, just a few minutes after midnight. The bottle of fire whiskey the whole fifth year had shared in her honor was long since gone. She was sixteen, now. Sixteen. Only one year left until 17. Almost done with Hogwarts, done with being a child in the eye of the Ministry. 

She was scared. 

“Good birthday, Evans?”

“Until Peter yakked, I enjoyed it,” she answered, pitifully. She was trying to be funny, really. Trying to make him laugh. It worked, of course. Potter wasn’t known for having a high standard for humour. 

“Ah, yes, he did have a little too much, didn’t he,” he said, obviously amused. She didn’t know much about Peter, but she knew Potter loved him, so he must have something going for him (even though usually he just seemed like the person who inevitably drank too much). “But it was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lily responded. “But. I’m old now.”

Potter smiled. “Oh yes, the famous 16-year crisis.”

“That’s the very one.”

“Makes me feel a bit strange in the company of such an old woman,” he joked, sitting down next to her. He was wearing a T-Shirt, an odd look on him, and she had to readjust her body when his warm arm came in contact with hers, trying to get some distance between them. 

“Potter!” she exclaimed. “You know what I mean. The real world is coming so soon. I need to start studying for N.E.W.T.s. I should’ve started studying for my O.W.L.s years ago! I’m going to have to find a job, buy a house! What if I can’t?”

Potter moved the smallest bit closer, only a few centimeters, but it was enough. She could feel the heat of his arm, could smell him, even the firewhiskey on his breath. Was he drunk? Was she going to get unabridged Potter? But surely he had a higher tolerance than her, and she was only tipsy. “Lily,” he started. Something about her first name in his mouth was strange. Off. Too much. Too little. It made her skin itch. “You’re ridiculous.”

Over the past few months, the past year, they’d shared secret moments during odd hours of the night, and she didn’t know that she could trust herselt, tipsy, with his body so close to hers. It wasn’t  _ him _ , per se. She didn’t have a particular attachment to him (she tried to convince herself). But seeing him vulnerable, comforting her, it made her question the impression she had of him, as a vain, mean, cold-hearted person. Because he just wasn’t, at all. The moments they had, were strange and intimate and private and felt like dirty secrets, like something to hold close to her heart, to keep to herself.

“It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me still,” Lily answered stubbornly, fighting a smile. 

“It’s past midnight, now, you know,” he said, bumping his elbow into hers teasingly. “You’re not the birthday princess anymore, Lily.” He added her name on as an afterthought, as if trying to taste the way her first name felt on his tongue, trying it out, after using only ‘Evans’ for so long. 

It made Lily blush.

“Ah, but we haven’t gone to sleep yet, so it is technically still a celebration in my honor, Potter.  _ You  _ have to be  _ nice _ to me, you know.”

“Lily, sometimes I just don’t understand you.”

“What? I’m an open book, everyone thinks so.”

He turned his head to look right at her for a second, to look right into her eyes, then suddenly he turned right back to face the fire. “Because they just accept what you give them. You’re the most mystifying person I have ever encountered. You–I mean, bloody hell, Lily, are we friends?” He didn’t sound accusing, but rather, frustrated. 

It was a fair question, she knew. They’d continued with hostilities and their regular banter during the days, but every once in a while they had a moment, a connection, a meeting. A rendezvous, perhaps, although unplanned. And then it wasn’t mentioned again. 

“Yes, of course we’re friends. It–It’s just different when all our friends are around,” she tried to explain. Her head was starting to feel heavy on her shoulders, drooping slightly against the backrest of the sofa. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Potter nodded next to her. Or shook his head, maybe, she didn’t dare look. “I don’t–we don’t have to do this now, Lils. It’s still your birthday. So what do you want to do?”

“Will you just stay here with me?” 

She felt bold. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Potter, maybe it was her fearing for her future, but she felt brave. And right now, she wanted Potter to stay, and she wanted to continue the pattern of secret moments to hold dear, where the rest of the world didn’t exist. She wanted to look at the sunrise and pretend nothing else was real. 

“Of course I will,” he answered, without hesitation. “I’m sure we have some more firewhiskey stacked away under Padfoot’s bed.” 

Lily did not want to drink any more, so she didn’t respond. Instead, she just sat, feeling the warmth of his skin and the evenness of his breath. She missed her parents. She missed Petunia. She missed having someone who was  _ hers _ . 

She looked at Mary and Alice sometimes, and wished she could connect with them like she had with Sev. Wished that either of them would understand her to the extent that he had, back when it was them against the world. But, then again, he hadn’t really, had he? They were still friends, but all they did was argue while pretending like they hadn’t grown apart. He couldn’t be hers and still be sympathetic to the Slytherin Purebloods who wanted her out of Hogwarts, who thought she was tainted. 

But, sometimes she wished. Sometimes she wondered. Sometimes she remembered the days her and Sev had before Hogwarts. How young they’d been. She remembered Petunia and her playing in the dirt and picking flowers with their parents, Petunia trying to teach her what she’d learned in school when Lily was too young to start. She missed having a sister who loved her unconditionally. She was sixteen. She was grown up. No longer was she able to pretend the real world was safe and innocent and full of people who wanted what was best for her. And sometimes she looked at what Potter had, three  _ brothers _ , and, against her wishes, found herself envying him.

“They love you so much,” she said suddenly, thinking out loud. 

“Of course they do, most people tend to,” he said, “but who, specifically?”

“Sirius. Remus and Peter.”

“Ah, yes, but who can blame them, really?” Potter laughed a bit, then looked at her. She couldn’t manage to keep her eyes open as they talked, tired and a little tipsy, her head feeling heavy on her shoulders. 

“No, really, you’re just–so lucky.”

“I know. Sometimes I–I don’t even think I deserve it,” he responded, clearing his throat. “But, you know that Alice and Mary would give anything for you.”

“Yes, maybe, but, it’s not the same. You know that. Sirius and Remus would die for you without question. That’s a good feeling, isn’t it? I want something… unconditional like that, too. Mary and Alice, I love them, but…,” she qualified. “I miss my sister, Potter.”

“They’re my family because I let them in. I don’t want to overstep, but, Lily, that’s why. We share everything. They know everything about me and I know every single thing about them. You–Lily, you’re private. It’s not … bad, but it’s hard to fully connect with someone when you won’t let them in.” He swallowed. She wanted him to keep talking, liked the calming sound of his voice. She didn’t know if she should be offended by his insinuations that she was closed off–it wasn’t  _ bad _ to be private–but she did know she was about to fall asleep to the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? You’re right.”

She opened her eyes to look at him, at his curly hair and brown eyes and his sharp jaw and the wrinkled T-Shirt. Instead of elaborating, she moved her head from the backrest to him side, resting on his muscular shoulder. She shifted her glance towards the window. The sun was rising. She took a moment to look at the color, the orange and flaming reds and soft blues at the very edge, before she closed her eyes again.

“Happy birthday, Lily,” Potter murmured, the last sound Lily heard before she drifted off to sleep. And if her heart happened skipped a beat at the sound, she would blame it on the firewhiskey.


	4. the fourth

The fourth time, she knew there was something wrong.

She could feel it. Somewhere in her, she knew there was something wrong. He hadn’t been at dinner. She didn’t really know why she was looking for him, but his presence had become a comfort. Stability. He was always there, whether it was laughing loudly with his friends or teasing her about something, he was there. Even before they had become friends, he was always there. Loud. Constant.  _ There _ . 

She sat in the common room long after Alice and Mary had gone to bed, long after the fire started waning. She knew that James would come stumbling in. (When had he become James?) But she didn’t expect the state he would be in. He was muddy, and wet, with blood on the side of his face. And he was crying. Confident, boisterous, (dareshesay) beautiful James was crying. 

She had never seen him before. James, that is. Of course, she'd  _ seen _ him, as much as her eyes allowed her to. But then he stood in front of her crying, shoulders shaking, hair wet and stuck to his face, and it felt like she was able to see him for the first time. She understood him.

He was like her, really. Okay, not really, because he was ridiculously popular and his hair never lay flat and he was a Quidditch god (although she would never admit it). But he was vulnerable sometimes, too. She just hadn’t let herself see it. 

Had she been so selfish as to not being able to realize his life wasn’t perfect? She didn’t even want to think about that. Selfish Lily, once again. And there was no Sirius with him, no one trailing him with boisterous laughs and jokes. 

“James!” He looked at her. Just stopped in his tracks, and looked. She didn’t know what to do, with a James Potter looking like a wounded animal in front of her. 

“What, Evans?” he asked, tired, dejected. Like he couldn’t be bothered. She was back to Evans, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. So she did the only thing she could think of, and hugged him. He was cold, and dirty, and he was shaking. When her arms wrapped around his body, he froze. In shock, she thought. Shocked that selfish little Lily could be humane. 

“Are you alright, James?”

“Yes.”

“You are such a liar.”

She felt him sigh. “What do you want from me, Lily?” he whispered. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know why her presence wasn’t enough to make him feel grounded. She didn’t know what was happening. “Just let me go to bed.”

It broke her heart, in more ways than she could possibly explain, to be dismissed by James Potter. Instead of backing up, like he seemed to want, she just held on tighter, felt his body stiffen up even more. 

“James, I just–”

“Lily. I don’t want to talk.” 

And then she got angry. She pulled away in a huff, looked up at his beaten up face, the dried tears on his cheeks, the set of his jaw, and she was angry.

“James Potter, sit the  _ hell _ down.” He looked shocked for a second, had the  _ nerve _ to look shocked. “You are going to sit down and we are going to watch the  _ fucking sunrise together _ .” 

She felt extremely silly, but he closed his eyes, as if it was an enormous effort to deal with her, and breathed a short “fine.” He walked right past her and headed towards the armchairs in front of the fire, planting himself on one of the loveseats. At least he wanted her to sit next to him, she figured. So she did. Muddy James. Sad James. Injured James.

“Can I clean your cuts?” she asked carefully, moving to stand in front of him. He gave a curt nod. 

So she got to work. Her (ridiculous) demand had involved the sunrise, which wouldn’t happen for at least another half hour, so she worked slowly to fill the time. She was good at Charms, at least, managed to clean the worst of the mud off easily, revealing the bruising underneath. He had three long cuts down his forehead, narrowly avoiding his eye to continue down his cheek. There were smaller cuts on his other side, with a large bruise forming on his eye and temple. His chin looked like he’d fallen on it, a large, but shallow, scrape decorating the left side of his jaw. 

At first, James remained silent, only wincing occasionally as she worked on disinfecting and healing his injuries. “Sirius ran into Regulus last night,” he offered finally.

“His brother?”

“Yes. His friends–that is... he runs with Snivellus’ crowd, Lily.” She swallowed. She knew what that meant. “Sirius wants to save him.”

“Do you think he can?”

“I think Regulus has to realize for himself. Like Sirius did.” He looked down at his hands, which were resting in his lap. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wished he would. “It got Sirius in a mood.”

“Sirius did this?” Lily tried to keep the shock out of her voice, the disgust, but she had a feeling she didn’t hide it as well as she wished.

“Not on purpose. Never on purpose. He was aiming for Regulus, too harsh a spell, Lil, too mean, I–I couldn’t let him do it.”

“You stepped in front of him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” 

“You don’t look that bad, though.”

“Yeah, when Sirius realized it would hit me, he tried to undo his spell, tried to move it away from me. The full spell didn’t hit me, but enough. Remus healed the slice down my chest.”

“Bloody hell, James...”

“You have to understand, Lily.” He grabbed her hand, stopped her work. He finally made eye contact with her. “He didn’t mean to, he just gets too caught up sometimes. His family, they’re not  _ good. _ Not like Sirius.” Lily nodded. The heat of his hand was suffocating her, made her skin tingle under his grip. “Then we had a good-natured screaming match on the Quidditch field. We won’t talk for a bit, I think, but it’ll be back to normal soon.” 

Lily could see that he was hurting, that fighting with Sirius was taking a considerable toll on him already. His eyes were full of hope and sadness and hurt and she was overwhelmed by how much he loved his friend. Everyone always called them brothers, Sirius and James, and she could easily see why; James was willing to get hurt to protect Sirius, was willing to do anything for him. They were truer siblings than her and Petunia, for sure. She didn’t know how to make him feel better, didn’t know what to do.

“You always… comfort me,” she said, changing the conversation to something that didn’t make her choked up. “I just wanted to return the favor. To take care of you, for a change.”

James dropped her hand and swallowed. “Thank you. You don’t have to, but. Thank you, Lily.”

She worked on the rest of his face in silence, for a bit longer than she needed to, just to buy herself some time. The light in the room was already changing by the time she put her wand down and took a step back. 

“Your face is good,” she said. “I mean, it’s back to normal.” She reddened a little bit, but managed to confine it. It wasn’t the time to blush about conversational blunders. It was too late for her to be navigating a conversation like this.

James smiled. Not at her expense, but rather a private, intimate smile, just for her. Something tightened within her, a clenching feeling in her chest, and she took another step back, putting distance between herself and the burn in her hands, itching to be touching his face again. 

“It’s almost sunrise, you can–you can go, if you want. I just… wanted to take care of you,” she said, looking down at her hands.

“Oh, no,” James responded, and she looked back up at him. “You said sunrise, so we’re bloody seeing the sunrise.”

“James–”

“Just sit with me until the sun comes up, Lily.” He reached across the space between them and took her hand. Not like before, not her wrist, but rather his hand in hers, his fingers holding hers carefully. 

She didn’t want the sun to rise. She didn’t want this to end. 


End file.
